Steroid Slugger: The * Formerly Known As Barry

Now that Barry Bonds has admitted his flaxseed addiction, the asterisk debate has kicked in. Should the dreaded * be stuck next to his name?

Nah, that would be too easy.

Baseball shouldn't just put an asterisk next to Bonds' name in the record book. It should change his name to *.

Historically, the game would be on solid ground. It once stuck the dreaded * next to Roger Maris' home run total of 61, and he didn't even cheat. Then there was Prince, who became "The Artist Formerly Known as Prince" when he changed his name to a logo that combined the male and female gender symbols.

If Jason Giambi kept shooting up all those fertility hormones, that symbol might have hit cleanup for the Yankees next season. As bad as Giambi's steroid admissions are, only one player represents the biggest controversy in modern baseball times.

*, come on down.

Turning Bonds into an asterisk would be shrewd damage control for the sport formerly known as baseball, currently known as a fraud. It would tell the world, "Forgive us. We buried our heads in piles of money as the game turned into a pharmaceutical experiment. We have the credibility of World Wrestling Entertainment, only it admits it is fake." That's the confounding part of the steroid dilemma. We don't know whether we should believe anything we've seen the past few years.

How many home runs are in a vial of human growth hormone? Who was clean, and who deserves an * next to his name?

Not every player was juicing. Even if they were, most were not technically violating any rules, since the players union saw to it there would be no rules when it came to steroids.

There is no way to judiciously administer an asterisk program for the Steroid Era. But as the BALCO grand jury bombshells keep dropping, one thing has become indisputable.

The game's most famous bopper cheated.

Yes, Bonds says he thought he was using flaxseed oil. Considering one of its benefits is "treatment of menopausal symptoms," he was apparently getting some bad flax.

The strategy is obvious. Deny, deny, deny. Unless he is under oath. Then it's dance, dodge and say you thought that liquid your trainer kept rubbing on you was just really bad cologne.

The approach might keep Bonds free of perjury charges, but it insults the public's intelligence. And as tolerant as fans have been of steroid freaks in all sports, this is different.

Baseball is built on statistics, and the home run record is the Holy Grail of sports records. What's more, the next man on Bonds' hit list is not a mere man. It's Babe Ruth.

It's hard to compare the Ruth era to Henry Aaron's era to Jose Canseco's era, but one thing we know. The Babe and Hammering Hank did not have Victor Conte turning them into lab rats.

A huge syringe will hover over baseball's biggest story the next two seasons. Every time Bonds hits a home run, most Americans will roll their eyes and make a flaxseed joke.

The union will discuss the steroid issue this week. Concession is in the air. Expect players to agree that anyone who hits 90 home runs while his skin turns green should be tested.

There is really nothing baseball can do to keep Bonds from climbing the home run chart. But there is nothing keeping it from acknowledging the obvious. Currently, that would read:

Aaron -- 755.

Ruth -- 714.

* -- 703.

When you symbolize everything that's gone wrong with a sport, only a symbol will do.